If It's Not
by Gitana del Sol
Summary: Jack sneaks into Angelica's bed. he has done it before. flashback followed by that scene in which Angelica threatens "If it's not...". Jack/Angelica. one-shot.


**Well, here we are with another PotC fic. I cannot get into the fic I am currently trying to finish so I am popping out all these one-shots. **sigh****

**This is dedicated to _oO Gabgalrox Oo_, who put it into my mind that i should write more. this is both good and bad.**

**i do not own these characters; i just borrow them. enjoy!**

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The sheets were moved and suddenly a fierce draft of cold air hit her back. Angelica gasped at its contact; a chill ran through and she whined with discomfort as she curled into a tight ball in order to conserve heat. It was a rude awakening for a Sunday morning. She frowned and groped around blindly for her covers. Her fingers made contact with material but it wasn't the woolen blanket she used during cold nights; it was the rough linen of a shirt, worn and torn from laboring on a ship all day.

Blinking away sleep, Angelica lifted herself onto her elbows, twisting so that she could see the figure that had crept into her bedroom. She caught sound of a chuckle, and then a warm body was pressing against her back, blocking the harsh cold. Rough hands gripped her shoulders to steady her against a kiss to her neck. His lips were rough and chapped, the wind-tossed locks grazing her shoulder and sending a new wave of chills down her spine, this time of pleasure. It was not the first time.

"Jack," she smiled and twisted so that could face him. He grinned in response before pressing his lips to her ear, slowing making his way down to her collar bone. Her eyes were fluttering shut and her pulse was quickening. His hands roamed down her legs. He was tracing light circles on the inside of her thigh when she wriggled away.

"Jack! It's Sunday! I cannot do this with you, not today."

"What does it matter what day of the week you sin on?" He reached out a hand to pull her back to him but she slapped it away.

"_Bueno_, I suppose it does not but I feel guiltier sinning on a Sunday. It's His day of worship, after all. _De todos modos_ I am going to pray harder today, Jack, so _no te pongas malcriado_."

"I have no clue what that last bit was but I can tell you this: what sense will 'praying harder' make, love? If all the people on this Earth were to double their speeches and requests, then this Almighty of yours would get twice the amount of usual mail. Assuming that He goes through all of it and answers each one, such a task would take twice as much time and therefore be nigh impossible. By the end of the day, He will be so exhausted that He won't ever reach the end of the pile, and that will leave you with the same amount of sin weighing on your soul and not a breath closer to salvation, and all the while abstaining from all the things in life that give you pleasure. So my thinkings is this: as long as you are going to be punished for it, might as well enjoy yourself doing it. What say you?"

Angelica stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"I will repent, Jack. That way _my_ conscience is clear; that way _I_ can join Him _en el Cielo_."

"You enjoy your time up in _el Cielo_. I have no such cares to sit on some cloud. I'd much rather be out in the open seas. _That's_ freedom; anything short of that would be a form of imprisonment."

"You will not be going to the seas. Your soul deserves no such happiness." She retorted dryly.

"Ah. Then where will I go, I wonder?" Jack teased. Angelica was quiet for a long while, and Jack was convinced that she had determined to give him the cold shoulder, when she finally answered,

"With me."

Jack tilted his head so that he could peer into her face. She avoided his gaze, pointedly focused on her fingers, but curiosity soon got the best of her and she chanced a peek at him. To her surprise and pleasure, he was smiling. He withdrew a hand from beneath the blankets to stroke her face gently with his calloused fingers.

"All the better, love." He whispered as he lowered his face to plant a sweet kiss on her lips.

The chaste kiss quickly became heated. In a demonstration of the strength of her character, Angelica placed her hands on Jack's chest and firmly pushed him away.

"No, Jack."

Jack pouted, silently debating whether or not to argue with the Spanish woman. She had a hard glint in her large brown eyes and it was clear by her expression that no amount of trickery and charm was going to get her to yield. Damn women with a stubborn streak! Jack sighed loudly and dramatically, opting to just snaking his arms around her waist.

"Fine."

Angelica smiled, relaxing into his body. She snuggled up against his chest, laying her head into the crook of his arm. Jack smiled; this was not as much fun as what he had originally had in mind yet he found himself pleasantly content with lying on her bed and having her cradled against his person.

"Mass does not begin until ten, and it is still the early hours of morning. I'd say _que todavía tenemos_ one hour before the sisters come knocking in search of me." Angelica gave a large yawn before closing her eyes once more, peacefully content to doze off in the arms of her pirate. Jack, still smiling, let his cheek fall against her soft chocolate locks as he, too, closed his eyes.

OoO oOo OoO

The bed dipped, the result of another form climbing into it. Angelica stirred from her sleep. She should have been afraid or alarmed regarding the nerve of a crew member to sneak into her cabin, not just because she was first mate aboard the _Queen Anne's Revenge_ but because the crew were all men and she was, in fact, a woman. She should have felt either or both of these feelings but she did not - she could recognize that musky scent, rough skin, and clinking beads with her eyes closed. Even so, she squinted from beneath groggy eyelids to confirm her suspicions. It was Jack Sparrow, creeping into her bed uninvited late at night.

Typical.

Almost unconsciously, Angelica shifted so that she was more comfortably snuggled against his side.

"Jack," she murmured, eyes fluttering closed once more, "if this is a dream, you may keep your sword and boots on."

Yet something was wrong. Though her body was humming with pleasure at the proximity of his warmth, her mind was struggling to overcome the sluggishness of sleep in order to grasp what ultimately did not feel right. How long had it been since Jack had come calling on her at night? How long had it been since she had lied in his arms so perfectly content? And last time…what had happened last time he had paid her such a visit? She had been used, just a part of the plan to clear the way for his own spiteful and secret agenda.

"If it's not," she began, and though she was still curled in half-slumber, her tone was dark and threatening.

"It's a dream." Jack supplied hastily.

And that's when she heard it: gunshots, cries of men, the loud clang of sword crashing upon sword. Suddenly, sleep no longer commanded her; her mind was reeling as she jolted into reality.

"No, it's not!" She cried, jolting out of bed so fast Jack nearly toppled off in surprise. She threw him a nasty look; once again, Jack had managed to use her to reach his own goals.

Lying, cheating, filthy _hijo de puta_!

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**the top part is a flashback of sorts; it happened during the period when Jack first met her. the second part is, obviously, that scene when Jack creeps into her bed. :] i loved that part.**

**most of the italics are Spanish phrases. to all of you non-Spanish speakers, that last bit...Google it. don't repeat it. curse words in Spanish sound more effective. lol**

**please review and tell me what you think.**


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